


The Best Laid Plans...

by quicksilver_nightsky



Series: A to O of Life [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Alpha Gladiolus Amicitia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Consensual Underage Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Ignis Scientia, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-08-26 09:57:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16679428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksilver_nightsky/pseuds/quicksilver_nightsky
Summary: Perhaps he ought to have listened to his Dad’s advice. The petite omega, with his own coloured eyes, had once sighed and looked out the window at his Papa in the garden. “My little flame, you cannot plan for everything. Life doesn’t work that way.”





	1. The First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Characters are both over 16, which makes things legal in my state but the underage tag is there in case it's not the case in yours!
> 
> I didn't mean to write this, but Iggy got talkative about his history with Gladio.

Ignis Scientia had always had a plan for his life. He was the sort of person who functioned best with plans and goals, had been since he was a child. He constructed lists and timetables for his parents, in their home on a small island that historically belonged to Tennebrae but had been gifted to Lucis as an act of friendship on the birth of their son Noctis. It lay in the sea between Eastern Tennebrae and Western Lucis, at a reasonable distance that the adjustment of the border was negligible. At two, he'd gone from being a citizen of Tennebrae to a citizen of Lucis without ever knowing any better. 

At five, with the Empire creeping closer, the Misters Scientia had decided the intelligence and fire of his young mind was being wasted in their small community, and sent him to live with his uncle in Insomnia. His plans adjusted: instead of becoming a school teacher like his Papa, he would become an emissary between Tennebrae and Lucis. 

When he was six, King Regis had tasked him with the solemn honour of becoming the young Prince Noctis's first retainer. To become, in future, his advisor - but while they were growing up, his friend and companion. 

When he was fifteen, his firmly decided plan was thus: he would graduate from high school within the next year and enter Insomnia University to complete a fast-tracked degree in Political Science. By twenty, he would marry someone suitable and capable of continuing on the family line. A child by twenty-five, whose other parent would be responsible for looking after as Ignis expected to be far too busy with his career. 

With Double-O parents he knew the statistical likelihood was in favour of becoming an O himself when the time came. He suspected it would not be far off. But he refused to allow that to dictate his plans - he would have his career, and his partner would be in charge of the household and their children. 

Perhaps he ought to have listened to his Dad's advice. The petite omega, with his own coloured eyes, had once sighed and looked out the window at his Papa in the garden. "My little flame, you cannot plan for everything. Life doesn't work that way." 

A few days after his sixteenth birthday, once he had his high school diploma in hand and was still waiting on the status of his application to the university, he made a firm decision. With the rising tensions in between his kingdom and the empire, he calculated that it was not adequate to be only politically and socially astute. It would benefit himself and his charge to also be physically adept at a combative art. 

He took his concerns to the prince's Shield, who shrugged and said "can't hurt" and agreed to become his personal trainer. Noctis was fourteen years old, there wasn't much young Amicitia had to do with him - he seemed eager for something to actually do. 

He headed to the Amicitia Mansion, on landed property not far from the Citadel, for young Amicitia to conduct a thorough physical assessment before they could make a plan for his training. 

He knew his diet was excellent - an adequate calorie intake balanced with healthy nutrients. But he was a paperwork type, and it showed in his gangly, sticklike figure. 

There was an unfamiliar sort of feeling low in his abdomen he attributed to nerves. A sort of twisting, cramping sensation. 

Young Amicitia was waiting in a sort of contained exercise yard, when Ignis was led there by the Amicitia's butler. He tended not to expend too much of his mental capacity on the appearances of others, other than to note how well they presented themselves and whether it was suitable for the situation. But he found his eyes drawn to the prince's Shield. 

He was wearing a comfortable pair of exercise trousers, the dark grey material looked very soft. His shirt was barely there, a white cotton singlet that clung to developing abdominal muscles - with skinny straps that only emphasised the broadening width of his shoulders and the thin ink outline of the traditional eagle tattoo of the King's Shield. There was a masculine sharpness developing across his jaw - complimenting the heaviness of his brow. Had his eyes always been that pretty amber colour? His hair was neatly clipped at the sides but he was growing it out - it looked soft, like he could comb his fingers through it, rather than his normal spiked up style. 

"Scientia? You good there?" The young Amicitia's expression was soft with concern. His eyes really had this deep, honey glow with golden flecks in them. 

"Quite," he answered, his voice cracking like it hadn't done since his early puberty. "A little nervous, I suppose." 

"Relax, Scientia," he soothed, his voice a deep, pleasant rumble. "I'll be gentle with you." 

His abdomen clenched at the words - was he really so nervous? "Thank you," he said quietly. "How shall we begin?" 

"Stretches." 

The young Amicitia seemed impressed with his limberness. He encouraged him into stretches and then used the weight of his body to press him deeper into them. 

And then there was one position that caused his heart to stutter. He was lying on his back, one knee bent, foot planted on the ground - the other was bent up to his chest. Amicitia was between his legs, his slim hips settling comfortably, and then his muscular torso was pressing his leg deeper into the stretch. His leg was hooked over one of his shoulders, and the other's face was close to his, warm minty breath gusting across his lips. 

He felt something hot and liquid spread through his core. He seized up in panic as he realised - he was aroused. 

"Cramp?" The future Shield asked, concerned. He moved off and eased Ignis's leg back down to the ground. His strong fingers began to massage his thigh muscles. "Tell me when you're ready." 

He shuddered a breath and squirmed away from him. "I need to go," he announced. 

"Scientia…?" Young Amicitia asked, confused. 

"I have to go," he insisted. "It seems I'm going into First Heat." 

The Shield tensed at the announcement, his jaw dropping open. A tongue darted out to wet his lips, and Ignis couldn't drag his eyes away from the shine on the soft pink. He wanted to _taste_ it. He wanted to shove his cock into that warm, red mouth - to force that handsome face to bury itself between his cheeks. 

He was shocked and confused by how lewd his thoughts had turned. He could feel how soaked his briefs and the seat of his trousers were becoming. 

"Titan's Chain, Scientia," the young Amicitia said, his voice a low growl that tumbled straight into his core. "You can't look at me like that." 

"Why not?" Ignis asked, wondering who this new daring person was. 

"Because I want to fuck you." 

"Then fuck me," he purred. 

"We're in the backyard, and my nine year old sister could look out the window any second." 

He parted his thighs further, in a wanton invitation he could never have expected himself to make. "There's a gardener's shed over there," he hinted. 

" _Fuck_ , Scientia." He used those truly gorgeous muscles to heave them both up, the new omega's thighs around his waist, to carry him into the dingy shed. 

"Ignis," he corrected. 

"What?" 

"I'd really rather you call me by my given name while you've got your cock in me," he answered, turning around so he could bend over the plant-and-soil covered workbench. 

"Ignis," the name tumbled off his tongue. 

He moaned and grabbed at the waistband of his trousers to yank them down. "Yes…" he moaned. "Just like that." 

"Gladio," the Shield responded, grinding his cloth-covered crotch against Ignis's soaked thighs. "I want you to moan my name while I knot you up." 

He paused as the meaning of that last bit sunk in. "You're an A." 

Gladio groaned and rested his head on the shoulder of Ignis's tee-shirt. "Is that gonna be a problem?" He sounded as if it would actually be painful for him to stop. 

He mulled over the facts. It was his First Heat, and if Gladio knew his secondary orientation, surely he was on the Tab. 

"I shouldn't think so," he answered. "Now, haven't you stalled long enough?" 

It was frantic and filthy and sluttish and Ignis was surprised by how much he _loved_ it. He lost his virginity smudged with mud, head and shoulders slamming into little plastic pots of flowers. He was never going to smell gerberas again without the reminder. 

After Ignis came the first time, Gladio lifted him up with strong hands on his hips. "Can I turn you round while I knot?" He asked, his voice rough with groans of pleasure. "That way we can make out while we wait for it to go down." 

"Yes," he moaned. "Hold on, just, rest me up against the bench…" In an impressive manoeuvre Ignis would have to learn how to perfect, he managed to turn without ever fully disconnecting from Gladio's thick, delicious cock. 

It seemed to send the A wild, sweeping the plastic plant pots onto the ground so he could climb onto the workbench and drive into him with strong, powerful thrusts. "You're- so- fucking- hot!" Gladio growled, punctuated by powerful thrusts. 

He moaned, arching his back. His sock dragged across the dirt and benchtop, when had he lost his shoe? "You're gonna make me come again!" he whined needily. 

"Yeah," Gladio responded. "Come on my knot, Ignis!" With a final hard thrust he pushed the knot past the ring of his entrance and inside his slick, greedy channel. It began to swell, and the knot gave such delicious pressure against his prostate. He came again, as promised, and felt Gladio's hot come beginning to bathe his slick, sensitive insides. 

He gasped as he felt teeth digging in, piercing the fabric of his tee, and the flesh underneath. He could feel a connection fastening between them, Gladio's lust and bliss and pleasure and instincts so overwhelming. He nosed the sweaty strap of the singlet aside, burying his teeth into the curve of his tattoo, where neck gave way to wing. The alpha made a pleased rumble and nosed his mouth away from skin so they could exchange sloppy, afterglow kisses. 

"You owe me a bath." Ignis mumbled, when the peak of pleasure feeding back into each other began to simmer down. "A really long, really nice one. With blowjobs, and bubbles." 

Gladio laughed against his lips. "I think I can manage that." 


	2. Pragmatism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: discussed and implied abortion.

After a very pleasant weekend, Ignis sat on the edge of Gladiolus Amicitia’s decadently luxurious bed and pulled his freshly laundered clothes on. He could feel the A’s calm satisfaction on the other side of the bond. 

Right. “We must have a discussion, Gladiolus.”

“Thought I told you to call me Gladio,” the other asked, with a sort of cheeky smirk that was probably meant to be charming. But it was an ineffective technique when he could feel an undercurrent of nerves just from his words. 

“We’ve bonded,” he said, massaging his bite mark as he pulled his tee-shirt into place. “I think that merits a discussion.”

Gladio sighed, the nerves toning down. He ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Sorry. My Tab ran out a couple weeks ago, A instincts were jacked up.”

Ignis turned to look at him in disbelief a moment. “You allowed your Tab to run out and haven’t replaced it?” He demanded. He could feel Gladio’s amusement rising to meet his outrage. 

“I had an appointment on Friday,” he replied, “got a little busy.” Smug satisfaction and lust and a saucy wink were given his way. 

“You really should be more conscientious of your schedule,” Ignis scolded impatiently. “Have you even installed the Wellness App on your cell?”

“Duh. Like every other teenager in the city — but I might have… cracked my cell during training a couple months ago? Dad refuses to replace it and I’ve got this shitty flip phone that can’t install it?” He sounded and felt sheepish. Conscious of his muscles and how overwhelming they could be. 

He had never sought this much insight into Gladiolus Amicitia before. And now he had a direct window into his feelings and motivations. 

Ignis sighed tersely and bent down to roll his socks up his feet and ankles and calves. “Regardless of that particular irresponsibility — we _have_ bonded.”

“Ain’t entirely my fault,” Gladio grunted, reaching up to finger Ignis’s own bite mark. “You bit me back.”

“Well. I was in the throws of First Heat. I believe that excuses me from a slip in control.” He sniffed impatiently. “You shall book an appointment with a bond adjuster at earliest convenience.”

“Why’s it my responsibility?” Gladio groused, folding bulging biceps over his sculpted chest. 

“Because I have an appointment to make at a discrete O-Clinic to have my Tab placed. And three days’ worth of work and paperwork to catch up on, not to mention lesson plans to readjust to account for this dalliance…” He fell silent when he felt Gladio’s hand cupping one ass cheek, fingers stroking across his entrance. “And what, pray tell, do you think you are doing?”

“Just checking,” Gladio answered playfully, “cause I’m pretty sure I didn’t leave a stick up your ass when we finished fucking last night.”

He made an outraged noise — but couldn’t quite hide the spark of amusement or the perk of interested arousal from his bondmate. He could _feel_ the victorious grin Gladio was giving his back. 

He smacked the hand away and made sure to send disapproval back. “Mustn’t presume, Gladiolus. You aren’t entitled to my body, nor any objects rumoured to be stuck up there.”

The laugh was warm as the hand removed. “Yeah yeah. I get it. You’re a strong independent O who don’t need no A.” He _felt_ Gladiolus pinching the bond closed, their awareness of each other narrowing until it was nothing. “I’ll book an appointment for later this week, okay?”

“My gratitude.” He stood to pull his underwear and trousers up. “Now I really must get going. Thank you for a pleasant weekend, Gladio.”

“Any time, Iggy.” With a salacious wink, Gladio sprawled back on his bed, head framed by the bulging biceps as he rested it back against his palms. “ _Any_ time.”

***

Ignis was working away on his cell, answering a backlog of emails while he waited for the physician to re-enter the surgical room at the O-Clinic. He had gone halfway across the city to a less affluent part of the city, where he was certain no one would recognise him as the crown prince’s chamberlain. 

They had been less amenable to his insistence at his tests being expedited, but had relented after his offer to cover any costs incurred for speeding along the process. Money always talked. But it had already been two weeks since his First Heat and he had not time to spare. 

The door opened and the physician re-entered. Ignis’s eyes narrowed as he was not carrying the tools to place his Tab. He tucked his phone back into his pocket. “Doctor.”

“Mr Scientia,” he replied. Calmly, he took a seat across from the young O. “Perhaps your parents should be here for this conversation?”

“I’m emancipated.” And almost certainly orphaned, given how they had lost his island to the empire’s hands just a few months after his move to Insomnia. “I don’t appreciate hemming and hawing. I would request you be direct and timely.”

“Very well.” The physician cleared his throat. “You are pregnant.”

The room seemed to throb, but he quickly asserted himself with the logic that it was his own pulse and blood pressure. It did not seem to help the lightheaded feeling, however. “You are quite certain?” 

“The levels indicate you are two weeks in,” the physician explained. “Which matches the timeline you gave us.”

“But…” he floundered for a moment. “It was my First Heat.”

“It’s not unusual for a young O to be capable of conceiving from their very first,” the physician explained. “Though we don’t recommend omega have their first heat in the company of an alpha. Intercourse at all is discouraged until a Tab has been placed on both parties.”

He found his fingers drifting down, pressing against his lower abdomen. He knew the diagrams, where the womb was located. “But you are quite certain?” He asked helplessly. He had not felt so much like a lost child in many years. 

“Yes, Ignis. 99% accuracy.” The physician gave him a sympathetic look. “Shall I arrange an appointment with an obstetrician?”

He yanked his fingers away from himself. “No. It’s quite out of the question. I am more than within the legal timeframe of an… of a termination, am I not?”

“Yes, Ignis,” the physician answered, sounding tired but not surprised or disapproving. “There is a two week waiting period, we have to by law to ensure you’re decided. But I can book you an appointment for fourteen days away.”

Fourteen days. He’d be four weeks along then. Would he be able to feel it by then?

He nodded resolutely. “Thank you. How soon after that can I have an O-Tab placed?”

***

Ignis had given himself two days off. He had initially thought that was overly generous. But as he lay in his bed, feeling hollow and scraped out on both a physical and emotional level, he was considering if he could arrange more time. 

And then the bond he’d tactfully been ignoring opened up — Gladiolus’s adrenaline and organised worry was strong enough that he could compartmentalise his own sensations away where the bond could not access them. 

Clearer than words could have expressed, he got the message: King Regis had been attacked outside the Wall, he was in good condition but emergency procedures were in place. Gladio knew it was his day off (since when did Ignis have days off?) but Noctis was upset and asking for him, and could he come to the Citadel. 

He sent back an affirmative, that he would be on his way as soon as he dressed, and then relaxed as the bond pinched closed again. He made himself get up, dress, grab a granola bar, and eat it as he went down to the car. 

It was some time before he managed to calm down the prince — and could only extract himself from the bed once he was deeply asleep. 

Gladiolus was standing by the door. “He asleep?”

Ignis nodded. “At long last.” He gave a tired sigh, let himself feel his overwhelming exhaustion for a moment. Today had simply been too much. 

“Iggy?” Gladio asked, his voice soft. “You okay?”

“I shall be perfectly fine,” he answered resolutely. “With rest and relaxation. Neither of which I suspect I shall get in the immediate future.”

“You looked wrecked,” Gladio said, looking at him with soft concern. 

“It has been a trying day,” he responded with a shrug to ease the young Shield’s concerns. The only positive of this attack was the timing — nobody would question his being out of sorts now. A small blessing amongst an utter shitshow. 

“Hey,” Gladio said softly. “C’mere.” When Ignis didn’t move, unsure of the request, he pulled him closer and wrapped him in a warm, comforting embrace. One hand rose and surprisingly gentle fingers stroked over his bond bitemark through the fabric of his shirt. 

He gave a helpless sigh, melting at the feeling of calm that washed over him at the simple, impeded touch. “Oh,” he breathed. “That’s blissful.”

Gladio chuckled against the side of his head. “See? Another benefit to this bond.”

“Another?” Ignis asked, raising one eyebrow at the door to Noctis’s bedroom. 

“You gotta admit. Today went a lot smoother than it could have if we were relying on telephones.” Gladio’s fingers didn’t stop gently soothing across his bitemark. 

“You have a point there.” His forehead wrinkled. “Are you suggesting we remain bonded in order to better perform our duties to the crown and prince?”

“Maybe?”

“That’s uncharacteristically pragmatic of you, Gladiolus.”

The fingers paused. “I’m capable of being serious, you know,” he muttered defensively. “And duty comes before anything else. You should at least consider it.”

“...you still have an appointment with the bond specialist, though?”

“My first consultation was meant to be tonight after my shift, but I can reschedule,” Gladio admitted. “Just thought… why do we have to? It’s useful, and neither of us are attached or likely to be any time soon. When the time comes, we can break it — but in the meantime, why not take advantage?”

Ignis hummed. “Get your consultation rescheduled, Gladiolus. I will consider it.”


	3. Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis breaks tiny Noctis’s heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of adolescent sexuality. (Noctis is fourteen)

He was just turned seventeen when a fourteen-year-old Noctis asked him to become his mate.

After presenting in an embarrassingly public incident during a history class, Noctis was upset and embarrassed. Used to turning to Ignis for all his comforts, the days of his first rut were a discontented time for the young prince. 

But he told Ignis everything, something in unwanted amounts of detail. Face nearly purple with embarrassment, Noctis had explained: “I was trying to pay attention, I was. But the teacher was telling it all wrong! I could teach our history class better than her…” Seeing that Ignis wasn’t going to scold him, he continued: “so I was just, letting my mind drift. And then… well, there’s this boy in my class. The shy blond one with glasses…” Cheeks going an even deeper shade of red, he mumbled: “the clouds parted, and the sunshine came in the window. And it just made him look golden and… and the knot just happened!”

Ignis pushed up his own spectacles. The blond boy with glasses, he suspected he knew of whom precisely Noctis referred to.

“It’s quite alright, Noctis. The teacher reacted quickly and with decorum. Children may gossip, but others know that it is unseemly to discuss these sort of matters. If you would like to transfer schools or begin homeschooling, I will speak to his majesty.”

“No… it’s okay,” Noctis said, tired and resigned. “They all talk about me anyway. It’ll just be something new for them to say.”

So his charge was an A, it seemed. Communicating the details in a brief opening of his bond with Gladio, he hoped that would be the end of his involvement in the matter. 

However, he could not call himself surprised when Noctis, after his A-Tab had been placed, shyly and hopefully asked Ignis if he would become his mate. 

“Not now!” he added hurriedly, when Ignis paused to answer. “When I turn sixteen!”

Ignis had been aware of Noctis’s feelings for some time. They were rather long-lived at an age where most teenagers were in the throws of puberty and its quicksilver-fast tendency to flit between admirations. He had been, perhaps foolishly, hopeful that he would never have to deal with a confession. 

Calmly, he resumed marking Noctis’s practice exam, “I already have a bondmate, Noctis.”

“What?” The young prince sounded so _wounded_ by the news. “But you’re too young!”

Ignis tactfully decided not to mention that he had been the same age at which Noctis was proposing to bond. “It was an unintentional bond in the heat of the moment,” he answered, privately revelling in the wordplay, “but my mate and I are both satisfied with it. I should not think we shall _ever_ choose to part.” That last part was a warning, even if it was a little stretch of the truth. 

Ignis had no intentions of parting from Gladiolus, but he knew the Amicitia Family had expectations for the younger Shield. He would expected to marry someone of ‘good breeding’ as the term said, and sire an heir or two with which to secure the bloodline. 

Ignis doubted he fit the bill, despite his position being equal to that of Gladio’s in the prince’s household. He could not change the circumstances of his birth or his family’s position — one step above commoner. 

“Who?” Noctis demanded, with all the petulance a fourteen-year-old prince could muster in the face of not getting his way for possibly the first time in his life. 

“Your pardon?” He asked, pointedly giving the prince a chance to backtrack. 

“Your mate! Who are they?” 

No such luck. 

It was at that moment that Gladio himself stepped into the room, ready to collect Noct for a training session. He paused as soon as he noticed the tension, and Ignis opened up the bond in order to fill him in on the situation in instances. 

Gladio rolled his eyes fondly, but his voice was challenging as he stepped closer into the room. “ _Me_ , kid. Don’t hit on my mate again.” He tugged aside his sweatshirt to flash the mating bitemark in the prince’s direction. 

Noctis’s face screwed up in something dangerously close to a temper tantrum. But he seemed to decide it wasn’t worth arguing (or he simply couldn’t take Gladio in a fight for dominance) and slid off his chair. “Whatever. I’m too sick to train today. I’m going to bed.” He shut himself into his bedroom without a backward glance. 

Gladio went to pursue him, but Ignis stopped him with a gentle hand on his chest. “Let him alone, Gladio,” he said softly. “He is young, and he feels the matters of the heart keenly. You can make him pay for his laziness next session.”

He could only hope that this might dispel Noctis’s unfortunate crush, and he would move on so they could avoid further incident. 

But his concerns were pushed out of his mind. Gladio took up his hand and softly kissed his palm, right at the meat of his thumb. “I don’t wanna split with you neither, Iggy. For the record.”

He felt his cheeks pinking with a blush. “Well. It’s nice to know that we’re on the same page, dear.”

  


(Noctis did not ask again. But neither did his feelings disappear. Ignis could only hope he met another, to whom he could develop stronger, reciprocated feelings for.)


	4. Bittersweet Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set around and including some of the time of the Brotherhood Episode ‘Bittersweet Memories’ (the Iggy-centred one)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iggy is nineteen in this chapter, and if you know the verse you can tell what this chapter is going to be about.   
> Warnings in the bottom notes 
> 
> Kicks off with smut and then goes straight into angst town.

Ignis arched his neck back, a moan escaping his lips. The hot bliss of Gladio between his spread thighs; thick, hard pressing in and out of his entrance, rubbing deliciously against his prostate. He was slick with it, dripping, worked into a state by Gladio’s fingers and tongue before they’d started this aspect of their pleasure.

One hand raised, reaching around his leg bent up to rest against his own shoulders, he buried his fingers in Gladio’s lengthening hair. “Ah, dearest,” he worked out between moans. “I’m close.”

“Fuck,” Gladio growled lustily. “Yeah. Me too. Can I knot you?”

Ignis managed a few chuckles between breathy moans. “Since when do you ask, dearest? _Yes_.” 

Gladio thrust in deep and hard, until his swelling flesh locked them together. It triggered the most delicious sensations, and he arched his back as he came with a wanton cry. 

They stayed locked together, sparks of pleasure dancing along his spine as infinitesimal shifts rubbed against his sensitive insides and prostate, and Gladio’s hot spend buried inside him in short bursts. 

He eased his legs down with a pleasant hum, hooking his knees over Gladio’s shoulders instead. “Thank you for fitting my _limberness training_ into your busy schedule, dearest,” he cooed, running blunt nails down Gladio’s biceps. 

At twenty, it was given that the Shield’s figure was much as it would remain for the prime of his life — and steps towards filling out the tattoo were still ongoing. One of the earliest had been to fill in the space where Ignis’s claiming bitemark was. His instincts writhed in fury at his claim being covered up — but it did mean that his partner went around shirtless more often and that was a gift to himself and the universe. 

At some point, Ignis would suggest to him that perhaps it was time they inform Captain Clarus Amicitia of their union, and their intentions not to part from it. But not at present. 

He felt his good mood slowly dissipating as the beast that was his current schedule reared its head. Content to ignore it while he was chasing mutual pleasure with his friend and bondmate, now that he was in that calm interlude waiting for Gladio’s knot to deflate so they could separate the beast awoke again. 

Prince Noctis was to begin his final exams within the next fortnight. Between tutoring him in preparations, the rise in imperial activity, and the concerns about his majesty’s ailing health, his daily ‘training sessions’ with Gladio were the only time he managed to take rest between five in the morning and increasingly later at night. 

It would be rude if he reached for his cell while his partner was still orgasming, wouldn't it? Yes. Indeed it would. Instead he spent those last few precious minutes focusing entirely on the sensations he could catalogue in the present moment. 

Gladio softened and eased out — followed in his wake by a positive _gush_ of fluids that his A moved to lick clean before they stained the sheets of Gladio’s bed in the Citadel. (He had assigned chambers in deference to his position, but resided in the family mansion permanently. The rooms hardly got any use other than this.)

He reached for his cell and unlocked it, checking the backlog of emails that had accumulated in the past forty-five minutes. He answered a few of the urgent ones, redirected others to more appropriate avenues, and starred others he would have to reply to when he was more equipped with time. 

There was a voicemail from his highness, declaring that he would be ‘studying’ at Prompto’s that evening — and returned the notice with a terse text message that promised he would be checking that they had indeed studied and not just wiled away the time with video games and streamed content. 

And if you do not eat something that contains more than cheese and potatoes you will answer to Gladiolus. 

“Hey Iggy?”

“Mm?”

Another missed call from his O-clinic — as if he had time to deal with whatever that might be! He deleted the notification.

“Babe, you actually listening?”

“I am adept at multitasking, dearest. Do proceed.” The immediacies dealt with, he returned to some of those emails to peruse and answer. 

“So, I went to get my A-Tab refreshed today,” Gladio explained. “But the doc said that since I’ve gained considerably more muscle mass the dosage had to be increased.”

“Mhm?” He encouraged, wondering why he needed to be bothered with this information. 

“And, yeah I’m sure it’s no big deal — you’re the most organised person I know — but turns out it hasn’t been 100% effective over the past couple few weeks? Enough to stop be going into a withdrawal rut, but probably useless on the whole… contraceptive angle.”

“Thank you for letting me know deare…” He trailed off, a horrible sinking feeling spreading from his chest down to his gut. Because that particular revelation, moments after he had ignored a call from his O-clinic? 

Pulse throbbing in his ears, he yanked the side menu of his cell open with as much force as could be expended in a simple gesture and tapped to open his O-Wellness app. 

There was an urgent notification on the welcome page — that he had dismissed the warning for his O-Tab expiring, but failed to enter the details of his appointment to get it refreshed. “Oh buggering _fuck_.” Because he recalled making that appointment, but had immediately forgotten to input it into any of his calendars. It had existed nowhere put on a post-it-note on his desk that he had probably thrown away at end of day. 

“Ignis?” Gladio asked nervously. 

“Perhaps you should be less confident in my organisational abilities.” He sat up, opening the Citadel app and changing his status from on-schedule to ‘Absent - Urgent Non-Emergency Medical Situation’. “I must go to my clinic immediately.”

“Iggy?” Gladio asked, reaching out for him. “What’s going on?”

He didn’t know how to form it in adequate words, so he just spread their bond and let him share in his thoughts, terror, worry. 

Gladio couldn’t hide the burst of joy at the possibility. His hand reached out to cup his lower abdomen. “Really?”

He pinched the bond closed. Before Gladio could learn about the last time. “I don’t know yet. That is why I need to go to the clinic. For a test.”

“Can I come with you?” Gladio asked eagerly; still not removing his fingers from his abdomen. 

“You might as well.”

***

Full of uncertainty, Ignis had booked an appointment for two weeks onward. He thought — perhaps hoped — that he would be able to cancel it before the time. But there was still much to discuss. 

He had hardly any time to sit down and have a discussion with Gladio. But they had brief moments where they spread the bond and let their thoughts intermingle. They had shared worries — the state of the current political situation, rising tensions between the empire on their doorstep, their young age, the secrecy of their relationship, the cluttered nature of their schedule. But too they had their shared joys in the idea of a child that was theirs, that they could love and raise — together. Ignis attempted to reduce his workload, delegating as he never had. This fortnight was to make certain after all. 

He even found time, as he hadn’t for some months, to bake an old treat for Noctis as a treat during his intense workload for the last day before his final exams. 

If there was more than pride to be gleaned from his taking care of Noct, it was a preview of what was to come for his own journey through parenthood. He had assisted in raising the young prince — and the proof of his success came now, in the form of Noct’s self-sufficiency. 

He stepped inside the apartment, using the nearby shoehorn to ease his shoes off so he could slip into house-slippers. A foul smell struck his nose, and he found the source as soon as he stepped deeper into the apartment. 

The whole apartment was littered with garbage. Nearly every surface cluttered with loosely tied bags, empty bottles, books folded open with bent pages. He gave a deep, heavy sigh and set down his satchel. 

What had he thought mere moments before entering? Noct’s self-sufficiency was his success?

He reached out to Gladio, but the bond stayed firmly closed. A brief check of his schedule showed that a last minute dinner at the mansion had been pencilled in, with Clarus Amicitia also in attendance. 

With a resigned sigh, he reached for a garbage bag to begin cleaning up. 

***

There were a few hours to go until his appointment at the clinic. He had to check in with Noctis for the evening, but then his schedule cleared for three days while the prince finished his exams. 

The day had been rough. Galahd was lost, and during the attack their magics had been useless. The council meeting had been grim, and nothing hopeful had been said. Then after the meeting, the king had approached him. Had confided in him, had entrusted him with Noctis. 

He had more reservations tonight than the last two weeks. His decision was leaning towards making another appointment in two weeks time — he would be six weeks along then, but that was still plenty within the limits. And it would give him time to contemplate while he was attending to a regular schedule. 

But Noctis wandered in hours late. Having wasted his afternoon and evening hours away at the arcade of all places, not at all studying for the next day’s exams. He sat at the dining table, and sat down to calmly explain things of import to the prince. Only to have his patience thrown in his face -- the prince all but screaming at him. He never directly accused him of being cold and indifferent, but the meaning was there. That Ignis could not perceive the paternal bond and the depth of its feeling. He excuse himself quickly. Perhaps too quickly for a teenage boy amidst crises who was lashing out for not knowing how else to express himself. 

He sat in his car, slamming the car door in a useless attempt at expressing some anger. He gripped the steering wheel tightly beneath his hands and took a deep breath. He allowed himself to feel the weight of everything upon him, hands sliding to the top of the steering wheel so he could rest his head upon it.

He should not have lectured Noctis tonight. It had been a poorly judged move, a result of his own frustrations and burdens.

But it made clarity crystal clear within his mind. He was in no state, no position to be able to undergo fatherhood. With Gladio just as busy (despite the prince playing hooky on his training sessions during the lead up to exams), he would not be able to pick up the slack that Ignis necessarily was giving.

It was simply the wrong time. 

Or perhaps he was the wrong person.

In either case, it was no healthy home to be bringing a child into.

He opened up to Gladio, in a mere instant conveying everything about his conclusions. His partner could not argue against them, but there was a heavy grief. They shared in it, before Ignis necessarily had to compartmentalise and move on with his plans. He would just have time to arrive suitably early to his appointment. He let Gladio know it was not necessary for him to attend, and then pinched their bond closed again.

There was no need to inflict the emotional consequences of the procedure onto him. At least one of them had to be focused on their work, on being able to take care of the prince in their charge.

It was a deceptively quick procedure, less than ten minutes. But the hour-long wait in the recovery room afterward dragged on. 

There was more guilt this time. Perhaps because there had been considerations of another option this time. At sixteen, hardly graduated high school, in expectation of his accidental bond being parted at any moment -- there simply hadn’t been any question of a child. But there had been, this time. There had been hopes, possibilities

. Not to outweigh the disadvantages, and the ill circumstances — hence his presence here. At long last, the nurse cleared him to leave. He had expected to duck their questions about who would be driving him home.

But instead, Gladio stood when he left the clinic. For his status he wasn’t allowed to wait inside. He waited by the car, a white lily bound in rue and rosemary held in his grip. His hands dwarfed the simple arrangement, the dirt under his fingernails indicating he had pulled them himself. 

He crumbled — taking the few short steps forward, he walked into Gladio’s open arms and allowed himself to accept the offered comfort. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abortion, that characters aren’t 100% happy with.


End file.
